Sarcasm and a Gun
by mykindofparty
Summary: Santana's an undercover FBI agent at the Miss United States Pageant and Brittany's representing Ohio.
1. Chapter 1

Santana never thought she'd be married to the job like this, but it's a hell of a lot easier than getting her heart broken by women time and time again.

That fear motivates her to become the best field agent the Federal Bureau of Investigation has ever seen, and although she has a long way to go to reach her goal, she's got _some_ experience under her belt.

It's no secret that she has her eye on Director Sylvester's job either which is why she's always trying to make sure Sue has her coffee first thing in the morning. She's learned that sucking up will get her a long way in the Bureau.

It's said that Sue brought the devil himself, J. Edgar Hoover, two creams and a sugar every morning just for her own parking spot so Santana patiently waits in line at Starbucks every morning for Sue's espresso.

Or maybe not so patiently.

"Excuse me, ma'am, FBI. FBI business, people. Out of the way. Coming through," Santana says, pushing past the morning crowd to reach the counter and ignoring the side eyes and glares she gets once she puts in her order.

Her day continues with a briefing of her next assignment, the Flanagan case, and while Mike Chang dicks around on his iPad she listens carefully as Sue explains the Irish Mob's motives for wanting that skinny little potato peeler dead.

"Chang and Lopez, your job is to keep Rory alive before and after we negotiate the trade," Sue explains. "Got it?"

"Yes sir," Mike replies automatically which causes Santana to elbow him in the gut.

By the end of work she needs a drink and not just a beer either to take the edge off. She needs a glass of whiskey to help her pass out because even though she's exhausted, her mind is constantly working.

"On me," Mike says, handing her a glass of Rebel Yell the second she walks into the bar. He's surrounded by female agents, as always, but he never fails to make sure her first drink is on him.

Maybe he thinks there's a tiny chance she'll sleep with him, but for the most part he's just being a good friend. It's not like she has many others.

"Don't let him fool you into believing he's getting promoted anytime soon," Santana tells those agents who fawn over him and his abs.

Mike's too quick-witted to let her get away with a remark like that. "So long as you don't convince them that it's never too late for their experimentation."

"You're the one who's too late," she replies, winking at Elaine. Truthfully she hasn't had too many one night stands, just a short-term relationship here and there.

Mike only laughs. "You're a mess, Lopez," he says.

And the sad thing is she's starting to believe he's right about that.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi. Normally I don't respond to reviews because for the record I'm super lazy, but to the guest that commented on the length:

I understand where you're coming from with your suggestion, but this story started out as a simple little prompt fill for my buddy. She asked if I'd write more and I found that small snippets make for much quicker updates. Most of which are already written.

Maybe my other stories are more what you're looking for in terms of...volume. Although I'd stay away from **No Lego City Girl**. And anything that has **HIATUS** in the description. Also I never liked the ending to **Like This Triangle Needs More Sides**. If you're not looking for anything depressing I'd stay away from **Gertrude and Gaynell** and **The Lord and His Lady**. **Muggle Studies** is fun, but its prequel is totes incomplete. **Driving Miss Santana** is cool if you like Sam because I totally wrote that before Sam was all...different, to put it nicely.

**Dunder Mifflin, Lima Branch** is my fave though and also the longest so I have to put it last. Expect an update for that someday!

I have a link to my tumblr on my profile if anyone would like to express his or her opinions there.

* * *

The Flanagan case is a disaster from the get-go. Rory, the twerp who knows too much about the "grocery business", loses three fingers on his right hand before the FBI staking out the place can gather enough intel.

The Irish move fast, but so does Mike Chang's top agent. She's already inside the building, discovered Rory's location, and assessed the situation. "We've got six trigger-happy gingers and a bearded butcher," she whispers to Mike discreetly from her hiding spot deep within the walk-in freezer. She has a good vantage point of the butcher, but taking out the coked up muscle heads guarding the freezer door is another story.

"Please let me go," Rory mutters, shivering and trying to avoid looking at the bloody stubs where his fingers used to be. "I'll never tell a soul."

It's kind of too late for that since he's an FBI informant. A stupid one at that. One who gets himself kidnapped instead of going into the Witness Protection Program.

The butcher cleans off his knife with a wet rag. "Never tell a soul what?"

Santana shakes her head. This rescue has a time limit because the second Rory spills the beans is the second the butcher spills his guts. Literally. "We need to move now."

_"Let's see if we can negotiate a trade first,"_ replies Mike.

A cellphone rings moments later and the butcher wedges his knife between Rory's legs into the wooden chair where the poor kid has already pissed himself.

"Hello?" the butcher answers.

_"Top o' the mornin' to ya,"_ Santana hears Mike say over speakerphone. _"This is Robbie O'Toole with the Health Department and you're in violation of Code 010. I'll need you to evacuate the building."_

The butcher is weary. "For having food obtained from an unapproved source? You must be joking, boyo."

_"What exactly are you planning on doing with Rory Flanagan's fingers, Mr. Grady?"_

The butcher frowns and picks up his knife again. "How did you know my name?"

_"FBI. We know everything and we have the place surrounded. Release Rory with no further harm and we'll cut you a deal."_

Things go from bad to worse when the butcher just laughs before bringing his knife down once more, this time cutting his left hand off completely. Rory shrieks and Santana uses the distraction as an opportunity to take out two of the guards closest to her with sleeper holds, but not before a third one fires his at her.

He barely misses and she hides behind a cow carcass for cover. She fires back and grazes his shoulder, but it's enough for him to drop his handgun.

"I need back up," she yells. Mike's already on it though and the agents take out the two men guarding the door leaving only one other son of a bitch standing between the FBI and the butcher.

Unfortunately the remaining SOB is a decent marksman who shoots Santana right in the chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Of course she's wearing her bulletproof vest, but the impact still knocks her on her ass.

Life has a funny way of doing that.

She wakes up in the hospital and the first face she sees is Mike's. "You dumb motherfucker," she croaks out, voice dry and cracked. She tries to kick him in the balls, but she's disoriented and no match for his quick reflexes.

"Hey! They were never going to trade Flanagan for the ransom money. What was I supposed to do?" Mike asks.

Santana swallows. "Let me seduce them."

"You're not that good an actress."

"Is the kid okay?"

Mike nods. "Swears he's a vegetarian now." He seems unsure of what to say next, which is a first since Mike never shuts up. "You—your vest prevented any major damage, but you have some bruises."

She knows she's lucky to be alive. If that SOB didn't have shit for brains he would've aimed for her head. So rather than dwelling on the reality of the situation she says, "Just as long as my tits didn't pop."

"Sylvester wants you back on the job as soon as possible," Mike says, "but take as much time as you need."

It turns out she only needs a week before she goes stir crazy all cooped up in her one bedroom apartment. Downtime just leaves room for thinking and the more she thinks, the more she realizes how lonely she is.

She's greeted with a round of applause once she reaches her desk at the Bureau like getting shot makes her some kind of a hero. There's flowers and chocolates and for once someone brought her Starbucks instead of the other way around.

Sucks she still has to do her own paperwork though.

A month later she's old news; more cases crop up and she has yet to go back out into the field. It feels like she'll be chained to her desk forever until Mike gets assigned to the Miss United States Pageant.

She says no to going undercover at first because…_fuck_. She's not sure how much she trusts Mike right now and for another thing there are at least a dozen other female agents better suited for the job.

She knows because she helped him search the FBI database for the hottest ones.

But the thing is that they all have families and this is like a huge sting and, well, none of them say yes either.

So she's kind of Mike's last hope.

"Please," he begs her, "think of all the girls in bathing suits."

She scoffs because that is so not the reason she's considering it. Or at least not the only reason anyway. "Nobody's gonna buy that I'm a beauty queen. You said it yourself. I'm a terrible actress."

Mike grins. "That's why we're bringing in a consultant."

"Who?"

"A woman named Cassie July."


End file.
